


Return to the Earth

by JessenoSabaku



Category: One Piece
Genre: Angst, Don't know how else to tag this, Fantastic Racism, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, Jorogumo!Robin, Kappa!Sanji, More as time goes on, Nue!Zoro, Self-Acceptance, Suggestions appreciated, Tengu!Usopp, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 08:55:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10553574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessenoSabaku/pseuds/JessenoSabaku
Summary: Usopp, grandson of a daitengu, has lived in the Upper Yard mountain temple since birth. Raised under ascetic mountain priests and taught to abandon the world, Usopp aspires to be a priest himself. However, because of mounting political struggle between village humans and forest tengu in the valley below, a fateful shooting of a human on temple grounds, and a blue-haired woodsman whose rifle was the weapon of choice, Usopp becomes forced to flee the temple. He takes refuge with the same woodsman, who along with some friends helps introduce Usopp to the world beyond humans and tengu.This is a story of Usopp’s recovery from losing his dream, his introduction to a brand new world, and the friendships he gains that teach him things he didn’t know about himself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally meant for the 2016 One Piece Big Bang, written in collaboration with ohhhnnooo from tumblr, who did a lovely piece of artwork for it and many character designs, despite the fact that it wasn't finished in time. This fic has been over a year in the making, and is still far from completion. Even this much--around thirty pages--is the product of obsessive writing and rewriting. I've poured my soul into every line of this fic, and plan to keep working until it runs its course. I owe a huge chunk of my recent development as a writer to this story.
> 
> I also owe the existence of this fic to my artist partner, who helped me do folkloric research, who supported me, and was kind and understanding even though I wasn't able to give a finished product by the end of the event. I am publishing this fic before its completion so that if I never get to finish it, at least this much will exist as a testament to how much my partner meant to me. They gave me the courage and the opportunity to better myself as a writer. I intend to continue using this story to grow.
> 
> Please let me know what you think. And please send my partner some love. The artwork they created for me can be seen here: http://ohhhnnooo.tumblr.com/post/143873590344/heres-my-piece-for-the-one-piece-big-bang-in  
> There's a second summary on that page. Warning for some spoilers to events that happen later in the fic.
> 
> Quick note for the first sections: Shugendo is basically an esoteric sect of Buddhism, the main characteristic of which is a spiritual pilgrimage into the mountains. Yamabushi are Shugendo priests. There's not a lot of deep research I was able to do about this particular sect, so the portrayal of Buddhism I have here is a bastardization of Zen Buddhism and Hinduism. Please allow your suspension of disbelief to take over, and if there are any concepts or words you don't understand, don't fret too much. The ideological meat of this story will lessen and be taken over by friendships and plot points.

The memory overtakes him again, a tide returning inevitably to the shore. Within seconds, a nineteen-year-old young man is once again eight and fragile. He is inside a past self, and yet feeling like nothing much has changed.

He stands in his mother’s bedroom, located in the only secluded wing of the Upper Yard temple, its rooms untouched by all except the elder monks who journey each morning to pay respects to the lonely woman. As if she is already dead, they look with cloudy eyes to the far-off future while she lives and breathes before them. And Usopp, while looking at the black gossamer that curtains his mother’s neck and her glassy obsidian skin, can only think that such a person doesn’t belong in this world.

She’s been sick for a year. Like a spring she spits scarlet over her robes. Usopp once thought that she would never run out, but it takes more than blood to keep a life together. As he stood by her bedside, a ring of elder gurus at his back, he knew this would be their last day together. He had known it since he first awoke in the morning. He had run to her side to escape it, only to find his premonition coming true.

As he denies it in his heart, he tells the lie that will make her feel better.

“Dad came back today,” he says hoarsely, lips trembling in a forced smile. “He was really exhausted from his trip, so he’s resting. But after he’s had some tea, he’ll come see you. You just have to wait a little longer.”

With a weak laugh his mother says, “Tell him to take his time.”

“It won’t be much longer now!” Usopp asserts desperately.

His mother’s sweat-covered palm rests on his cheek. “I know,” she says kindly.

Tears well in Usopp’s eyes, one for each year he’ll have to spend without her. She strokes his face gently, his hero until the end. Her wings unfurl from under her body, spreading wider than the horizon, and encircle his tiny body in billowing folds of black silk. She is weightless. She is perfect. She shields him from the truth and all that will be expected of him in the future.

“You’re doing well. You’re such a strong boy, just like your father,” she whispers shakily into his ear. Her conviction vibrates through his entire body. “Someday you’ll be stronger than anyone.”

“I don’t care about getting strong,” Usopp forces out through a stream of tears. He clasps the palm on his cheek with both hands. “I want to be like you. I want to be strong in the real way. I want to become a monk and search for truth.”

Her eyes narrow in an exhausted smile--glittering pearls in a deep, black ocean.

“But you’re so good at lying,” she says with pride.

Usopp chokes out a muted sob disguised as a laugh. “You don’t think I can? Just watch, someday I’ll be a guru, just like you. When you come to morning meditation, we’ll bow to each other as equals.”

“It’s not a matter of being able to,” his mother says mysteriously, her face bleeding delight. “But I’ll look forward to the day you make your convictions come true.”

Before long, the elders are ushering him away, insisting he get to bed. He knows he won’t be able to sleep, but his mother needs rest. She needs rest more than anything else in the world. He knows this, but he can’t shake the feeling of words left unsaid. He imagines a barrier between them, holding back what she really wanted to say.

As he leaves, she waves goodbye. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says. Usopp knows she means it. He lets himself be guided out of the room, the wings of the elders stirring the air restlessly.

The next day, he rises first thing in the morning to return to his mother’s room and greet her body.

 

When Usopp came back to his senses, he was crouched in a small glade a few hundred meters below the main temple grounds in the Upper Yard. Tall, solemn aspens leaned over him in concern. The Skypeia mountain belt was a seemingly endless system of these glades, lined with aspens, conifers, and colorful shrubbery. They were walled in by ivy-roped rock faces that sloped into the higher, jagged mountainside. He liked these glades more than the Upper Yard grounds, bare of everything except bushes, a few trees, and the looming multi-branch temple, which was located at the highest peak at nearly twenty-nine thousand feet. Up there, one could almost reach up and touch the clouds. That scared Usopp. 

No, he much preferred the glades and the forest farther down. There he could forget that the Upper Yard temple pierced the sky and connected heaven and earth. He could also indulge in memories of his mother, before she got sick. He remembered many days spent with her leading him cheerfully through the dense forests, teaching him the names of resident birds and how to call them. A trail of clover and dandelions sprang up from under her feet with each step. The birds always came at her call.

Man, he missed her. Even after all this time, she still hung around, no farther gone than the moment just before her death. His eyes roamed over the glade, sun-kissed trees and small white butterflies dancing in the spring air. They filled him with hope--a stronger sense of her presence.

The young man had lived in the Upper Yard with the yamabushi all his life. The temple complex was home to a few hundred tengu, all training their bodies and minds to live as ascetics. They weren’t the only tengu in the Skypeia mountain belt, but most of the others kept their distance. Whether out of respect or disdain, Usopp wasn’t sure. The ascetics, of course, only cared about their practice and meditation. To them, the Upper Yard was the path to nirvana.

To Usopp, even more so, this place was his heritage. His grandfather, the former Skypeia daitengu, once led a fleet of a thousand tengu in a war to protect the mountains from human expansion and deforestation. Within a year, he and the humans quickly struck a treaty, the humans swearing not to disturb grounds above the lowest strata of the forest. He was a fierce, proud man who commanded respect and fear.

And then Usopp’s mother was born. A bodhittsava in the form of a child, she brought peace into her father’s heart with a single look the very first time she opened her eyes. Within the first few years of her life, the great daitengu dissolved his fighting force and established the Upper Yard temple, and dedicated himself to chasing transcendence through Shugendo. In his two-hundredth year of life, he disappeared on an annual pilgrimage, leaving behind no trace but his robes, his gesa, and a few feathers. A friend of the daitengu took over leadership, but Usopp’s mother was the true driving force of the temple. She expanded the complex, gave lessons regularly, and remained perfect.

But Usopp was different. When he was born, unlike his mother, he was given very little tantric instruction. He didn’t officially become an initiate until a few years after she died, and yet he’d lived in the temple all his life. Usopp’s mentor, the elder priest Pagaya, once let slip that the elders thought Usopp would never take asceticism seriously. They had been waiting him out.

The sound of ambling footsteps drew Usopp out of his thoughts. He turned and saw Pagaya approaching. The man stopped a few feet away, hands clasped behind his back, and smiled gently.

“Hard at work on your scriptures?” he called out. Usopp looked down to see he had mindlessly scratched the beginning of a tantra into the dirt.

“Um … y-yeah,” he answered sheepishly, rising to greet his teacher.

Pagaya chuckled, “You have no trouble remembering the texts, but as always, your heart is somewhere far away.” He nodded toward the temple grounds that climbed high into the clouds. “Are you prepared for your lesson?”

“Can we … um … do it out here? It’s really stuffy inside the temple,” Usopp asked. That was a lie--rather than being stuffy, the Upper Yard felt too open and free. It made him feel like he might float away at any moment.

“I suppose,” Pagaya conceded with an easy shrug. “Though I do wish you would spend more time in the temple. The other priests are becoming suspicious of you.”

Hurt, Usopp muttered, “Because of what I am?”

“Because you spend so much time out of the mountains and in the towns,” Pagaya answered good-naturedly, but Usopp caught the sympathetic glint in his eye.

Usopp and Pagaya sat on the grass, legs folded. The older man waited knowingly as Usopp stared at the grass, chewing a troubling thought.

“There's something I've always wanted to know,” Usopp began hesitantly, “But I feel like I shouldn't ask.”

“Go ahead,” Pagaya encouraged.

The younger man’s eyes drifted up to the wide, blue sky laced with tree tops. “The other monks say that mom's disease came because she got involved with dad. Was it ... because he's human?”

With certainty, Pagaya answered, “No.”

“Then, because he's a criminal?”

“No,” his teacher sighed, shaking his head. “They don't blame your father so much as they blame your mother. We all had high expectations of Banchina. She believed more steadfastly than any of us. But she abandoned her practices to chase your father.”

Pagaya turned his eyes to the sky as well. “The other gurus ... took her disease as karmic retribution.”

That drove a wedge into a deep crevice in Usopp’s heart. Too deep to fix if it pushed open any further.

“What do you think?” he asked meekly, drawing his knees to his chest.

The older man remained silent for a moment, contemplating the clouds. Then he turned and answered rationally, “I think none of us on this mountain are at a state of oneness with the universe where we can declare what is and what isn’t a sign.”

“But what do _you_ think?” Usopp pressed.

A smile cracked Pagaya’s tense expression.

“I believe your mother did so much good, that only a vile disease could balance out her karma.”

Usopp giggled nervously, pulling his head down so far his long nose bent against one of his kneecaps. “You're saying that just to make me feel better.”

“Why should I?” Pagaya asked lightly, and he was right.

“You'd be the first to say something so nice about her. You'd be the first to say anything, at least to my face. Seems like nobody else cares.”

Though, Usopp guessed, having the resolve to not tie yourself too tightly to your emotions is exactly what being an ascetic is all about. Most ascetics left families and loved ones behind and never saw them again. Based on this rule, Usopp and his mother should have been thrown out as soon as he was born, but Pagaya said the elders owed her father. They owed her, too. And somewhere deep inside, just like Usopp, they still saw her as a woman long transcended.

Usopp and Pagaya sat in difficult silence for a while longer, listening to the gentle whisper of wind through the trees. The quiet voices of the other ascetics somehow carried all the way to the glade in unintelligible bursts.

“Usopp,” Pagaya asked calmly, “Do you believe it's worth your time to be here? Studying the texts, seeking to develop your own soul?”

The young man’s head shot up. “How can you ask that? Of course I do! Transcendence is the most worthy endeavor!”

“I mean, is it worth it for _you_?” Pagaya clarified, confusing his student even more.

“What do you mean?” he asked cautiously.

“To ascend, you have to give up everything. The only truth of this world is oneness with the earth and the universe. And what that feels like …” Pagaya dipped his head sheepishly. “I’m still trying to catch that feeling myself. But what I’ve been told … and what little I’ve experienced …”

He closed his palms together in a circle, drawing in towards one another at an unhurried pace, as if magnetized.

“Every vision, sound, and feeling flies away, until there are no colors, no sensations, no differentiations. A vast emptiness and fullness pressing in at the same time, until you’re everything and nothing at once. Do you understand?”

Pagaya laughed when Usopp slowly shook his head. “Let me ask you this, then--do you know what day it will be a week from today?”

A half-realization washed over Usopp’s face, tugging down the corners of his mouth. “The beginning of this season’s pilgrimage.”

Pilgrimages--the critical component to the ascetics’ practice. Each season the elder yamabushi and a few master gurus left for a couple months to tackle the most dangerous mountains in the Skypeia belt. And each time, they brought along a number of initiates, upon whom they bestowed secret teachings. In preparation, each member underwent intense physical training, particularly in rock climbing. During these exercises, no trainees were allowed to use their wings. And because the elders refused to speak of what took place on these sojourns, an initiate’s first pilgrimage was an abyssal leap of faith--a test, and a rite of passage.

Each year since becoming an initiate, Usopp had been prepared to make the journey. He eagerly awaited the birth of a new season. But each season when the time came, the elders told him he couldn’t go with such a disordered spirit. When he asked which part of his spirit was faulty, they merely directed him to the tantras, the in-person lessons, and the six virtues. Even Pagaya held his tongue on the subject.

“You going to tell me I can’t go again?” Usopp asked with a huff, looking away.

“If I say you can’t, you won’t accept that, will you?” Pagaya sighed. “Because you don’t understand the problem.”

“And you’re not going to tell me what the problem is,” Usopp guessed.

Pagaya pursed his lips briefly, contemplating a nearby tree. “Let me ask you this, then--why do you want to go on a pilgrimage so badly?”

“Shouldn’t the answer be obvious?” Usopp gaped in exasperation. “How else am I supposed to receive the masters’ teachings?”

The elder’s soft eyes narrowed calmly. “And if you receive those teachings, what purpose shall you use them for? Will you apply them to yourself, or someone else?”

Usopp froze, searching his memory for a concrete answer to the question. “I … don’t I use them to better myself and make myself one with the universe?”

“Are the two concepts separate to you? I always thought they were one and the same.”

The young man fell silent, looking at the ground. He couldn’t think of a response. A voice inside him shouted, “of course they are the same. Of course I know that.” But it shouted into a deep chasm of emptiness, reflecting until its resonance was a mere echo of its cage.

Usopp asked himself why bettering himself and becoming one with the universe should be separate. He wondered what “bettering himself” even meant, if not spiritual transcendence. No answer came to him--only the memory of his mother’s sickly breaths, her flowering footsteps, and the light of joy that came to her face whenever she told a story about his father.

“Let me ask you one last question,” Pagaya continued, his face filled with sympathy for Usopp’s troubled expression. “Do you have anything left to prove to this world before you leave it behind? Or, do you have anything left to prove to yourself?”

Usopp looked anywhere but his teacher, heart thumping wildly for a reason he didn’t understand. When he eventually did make eye-contact, he saw the elder wracked with a pity completely uncharacteristic of the distant mask most priests maintained.

“All creatures feel desire. But if you don’t know the source, it becomes infinitely harder to quell.” Pagaya took a sweeping look around, then with another sigh, straightened up and pinned his student with a firm look. “Usopp, I think you still have a lot of love left for this world, and the people in it. Your attachment to your mother proves that. I think you still have goals left, but you don’t know the true nature of them. And that’s because you don’t know enough about yourself.”

“Sure I do,” Usopp bristled. “I’m the son of Banchina, and grandson of our daitengu. I’m their legacy. I’m my mother’s wish.”

As soon as he said this, he realized his mistake. His chest was filled with traitorous pride--the trait of a true fool. The trait that all tengu hated and struggled against the most.

“You definitely were your mother’s treasure,” Pagaya conceded. “That might be why even though you want to be a yamabushi so badly, you have no direction. She wished on you a little too much and gave you too little instruction. Though, the blame for that falls on your elders as well.”

Usopp leaned forward, bending almost in half, and cradled his head in his hands. He’d worked so hard for almost a decade, given up so much of his life, and yet the progress he thought he’d made vanished right before his eyes.

“Does this mean I have to start over from the beginning?” he asked quietly. “What about the pilgrimage?”

He felt a calloused palm rest on his head and he had to remind himself, this man had scoured mountainsides with his bare hands and thought nothing of the danger. A man like that had taken pity on Usopp’s vastly inferior struggles.

“You’ve worked hard for many years. I believe that counts for something,” Pagaya declared warmly. He placed both hands on Usopp’s shoulders, bidding him to raise his head. It felt like he was seeing his teacher for the first time, haloed by sunlight, and his nose--just as long as Usopp’s--casting a faint shadow. “The pilgrimage is a week away. Take that time to reflect on yourself as best you can. When the time comes, if you still want to go, I will take you with me. No one will tell you ‘no’--even if your spirit is still conflicted.”

Eyes wide as saucers, Usopp couldn’t help but ask, “Why?”

“Because I believe that if we open the path to you, you will succeed. I cannot explain how, but I see it in you.”

Pagaya got to his feet slowly, bones popping, until he towered over Usopp. His wings unfurled, just a touch smaller than those of the other elders, each white feather dripping honeyed light. He offered Usopp a hand.

“The lesson’s over for today. What do you say we recite yesterday’s lesson over some lunch?”

Usopp took his hand, eagerly getting up. But even standing shoulder to shoulder to Pagaya, he felt just as small in comparison as he did when he was on the ground looking up.

 

A hearty late-afternoon lunch made tantric instruction a lot easier for Usopp to bear. Even more so because Pagaya snuck in a fresh peach--a rare treat among the humble rations of plain rice gruel and fish. While Usopp mindlessly repeated scripture, the realization stole over him again--Pagaya was right. He’d memorized a number of basic texts, but not yet internalized their messages. His mouth merely moved on autopilot.

Only a week until the pilgrimage. By that time, he had to get a grip on himself.

After he and Pagaya parted ways Usopp fetched a cloak from his room, along with his mother’s fan. Made of nine brown-bodied feathers with pale red tips, it glinted briefly in the light before he whisked it beneath the cloak and fastened it around his waist. He pulled the cloak shut with one hand and retrieved his staff from his bedside. He gave one longing look at his modest bed before leaving.

Usopp made a hasty exit through the main temple grounds. He managed to avoid being seen by any of the other tengu, but no matter how quick he moved, they’d soon know where he went. He’d inherited his mother’s steps--within a few hours thin patches of tiny, yellowish clover would sprout, trailing all the way down the monumental temple steps and into the lower, forested strata of mountains. It wasn’t enough to endanger him of being caught by humans, but an observant tengu would be able to track him.

Near the base of the temple steps, Usopp saw the back of a familiar young woman. She held a crude wooden spear at her side.

“Conis!” he called out. She whipped her head around, twin braids flying, and flashed him a smile--as much as her beak would allow, anyway.

“Heading out to town again?” she asked.

Usopp nodded with a sigh. “McKinley around?”

“No, he left for a few minutes to check on some of the officers stationed on the ground.”

“And left you in charge?” Usopp teased. “You think you can handle it?”

She beamed, “Of course! I’m plenty strong.” She flexed an arm in illustration.

She really was strong. After all, she was a member of the White Berets, a group of tengu dedicated to defending the Skypeia Belt--and by association, the temple. They’d kept the mountain belt safe for as long as Usopp could remember, breaking up territorial disputes between creatures of the forest and monitoring human activity. They actually lived in Angel Valley, far below the Upper Yard--guarding the temple steps was merely an act of goodwill, one that the Berets went through a lot of trouble to achieve. Nobody from the Upper Yard requested the help, or came down to thank them, though sometimes they shared some food as a peace offering.

Unlike most of the tengu in the temple, the White Berets were mostly lower-ranked, beaked koppa tengu with far smaller, snow-white wings. Most of them could fly, but only for short distances. Conis was no exception. Her delicate wings beat her shoulders with excitement as she gave Usopp an expectant look.

“So, if you’re going to town,” she began, “does that mean you’re going to do ‘that thing?’”

“What thing? I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” Usopp said, putting his hands on his hips. “I’m just going to march down through the forest, like I always do--”

He made a show of strolling jauntily past until she grabbed his elbow.

“Your nose!” she laughed. “What about your nose?”

“My nose?” Usopp hummed coyly, then crossed his eyes and looked down. “Oh no, you’re right! What would the _humans_ think? I better fix this before I go!”

Conis’ eyes were aglow as Usopp theatrically brandished the fan from under his cloak.

“The great Banchina’s phoenix-feathered fan!” Usopp announced with a gleeful shout, giving the fan a spin. “This is an item you can’t get just anywhere! You’d never believe the trouble I went through to obtain it for my collection! Why, it was thirty years ago, on a precipitous cliff beside the temple, that I--”

“ _Just do the thing_ ,” Conis cut him off eagerly.

Grinning widely, Usopp declared, “The audience has spoken! Then, right before your eyes, watch this nose ... disappear!”

Then he gently fanned his nose, but much to his apparent, wide-eyed surprise, instead of shrinking it grew twice its size! Conis let out a delighted shriek, covering her mouth with a hand.

“Oops! I used the wrong side,” Usopp enunciated with true showmanship. He flipped the fan around in his hand and fanned again until his nose shrank all the way down to a small, perfectly unassuming triangular nose. “There we go.”

Clapping happily, Conis giggled, “I’ll never get tired of that. Though, if you want to look even less conspicuous, why don’t you take off that cloak?”

“I’m afraid my robes would give me away,” Usopp answered, but Conis was probably right. Some humans did become yamabushi, so it wasn’t like they were rare.

Furthermore Usopp had, for reasons he didn’t quite understand, been born without wings. He could easily make himself forget that fact until times like these, when he faced the edge of human civilization with both familiarity and a feeling of trespassing.

Conis shrugged, “I’m sure you’ll be alright.”

“Yeah. I’ll be back by tomorrow afternoon,” Usopp promised. “I’ll bring something for you.”

“Sure,” she said, eyes glittering. “Oh, and when you go back up to the temple … don’t forget to say hi to dad for me.”

He nodded cheerfully and turned to begin the long journey down the rocky mountainside and into the forest.

Near the edge of Syrup Village, not far from the town square, a stunning white three-story mansion rose high into the sky. Only a half a dozen other settlements surrounded the plot, most of them keeping a reverent distance of over three hundred feet, allowing for a yard that was huge yet not quite huge enough for a mansion so nice. The edges of every palatial window glimmered with the delicate lattice of a snowflake.

Usopp reached the mansion in the late evening. Creeping around the house, he peered into a window on the left side and saw a familiar young white-haired girl sitting at a desk. Her porcelain nose was buried in a book. He rapped lightly on the glass to get her attention, and she responded immediately, clambering over.

“Kaya!” Usopp greeted as the window opened.

“You always know when to show up,” she said affectionately. “I was just finishing today’s reading.”

“Your folks around?” Usopp asked.

“They went out for a while. You can come in if you like, but Merry’s still here, so we’ll have to be quiet.”

She helped him climb into the study then shut the window. As Usopp removed his cloak he peered at Kaya’s paper-cluttered desk. Ever since she secured an apprenticeship a year ago with a local doctor, her desk was blanketed with work. Many documents were written in a foreign script, making Usopp’s head spin at the mere sight. He supposed this was the difference between a well-bred daughter of an aristocrat and filthy mountain hicks like himself.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you,” Kaya said warmly, taking and folding his cloak. She placed it on her desk, hiding her formidable studies. “How have things been at the temple?”

“Same as always, I guess,” Usopp said, chuckling nervously. “Just busy. Though it looks like you get busier and busier too.”

“Yeah. I’m helping out at the clinic every day. Some of the patients and staff are still cautious of me, but I think they’re coming around.” She sighed in exhaustion and brushed a thin wisp of ivory hair behind her ear. “There’s just so much extra studying the doctor wants me to do.”

Usopp winced. “Did I come at a bad time?”

“No, no, no! This is the perfect time,” she assured him with a smile. “I needed a break. I’ve been eager to hear another one of your stories. But let me go put on some tea first.”

She left the room and soon reappeared with a kettle and cups on a rose-trimmed platter. They sat together on a chaise in the corner of the room and enjoyed the blackest tea Usopp had ever sipped. While they drank, Usopp regaled her with a legendary account of the time a mountain in the Skypeia Belt stood up and began walking around. Of course, it was Usopp who volunteered heroism, gathering an army of tengu to return the mountain to its rightful place. He made no effort to sound credible. Kaya liked the unbelievable stories best, and Usopp was only too happy to lie if it meant she’d look down on him with her patient, mature smile.

After the story was over, Kaya retired her cup and asked, “Can you let me try walking in your shoes again? I think I was getting the hang of it last time.”

“Really?” Usopp looked down at his geta. Most geta had two wooden pieces affixed to the sole, but his only had one--a long, rectangular block inconveniently placed in the middle of the sole. Another present from his mother.

“Didn’t you almost sprain your ankle the last time?” he pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

“That was because I let go of you,” she argued lightheartedly. “This time, I won’t.”

She badgered him until eventually he conceded and lent her his geta. He kneeled down and slipped the worn shoes onto her bony, stocking-clad feet. Once they were secure he stood and lifted her from the chaise by her hands. Even with her thin legs wobbling she remained the picture of pristine grace.

“You sure you have it?” he teased. “If you need to sit back down …”

Kaya gave a tinkling laugh, chest shuddering with light exertion. “Here, help me walk.”

They teetered around the room together, each of their steps bouncing in sync. Usopp uprighted Kaya whenever she stumbled, and in return her bashful smile restored his spirit. They’d done this a few times before, Kaya in Usopp’s geta, or Usopp in Kaya’s formal-wear heels--without words, it somehow brought them closer.

Usopp eventually said, “I take it you’ve been feeling better lately. I haven’t heard you cough once.”

“Yeah. I still have some trouble breathing, but I feel stronger,” Kaya nodded, keeping her eyes on her feet. Usopp felt a surge of relief.

Only last year she was confined to her room, unable to move from her satin sheets. On a warm spring evening that year, Usopp had perched on her windowsill and watched her body tremble with the effort of crying. She had been quite a sight--the prized daughter of a wealthy aristocrat, reduced to little more than a ghost. She was an exhibition whom dozens of neighboring families lined up to view, all anticipating the possibility of either miraculous recovery or irreparable tragedy.

And Usopp, committing himself to weekly visits while she languished, pretended away his own fear and irrational guilt by telling her tall tales.

“But we’re not here to talk about me,” he heard Kaya say, and caught her gaze. “Right?”

He said nothing. Their eyes remained glued to the floor as it moved beneath them, Kaya’s patient ear listening all the while. The heavy silence said nothing and everything.

Eventually, Usopp breathed deep and mumbled simply, “I’m not sure where my life is going. Pagaya-sensei said this season he’ll let me participate in the pilgrimage, but that I should rethink my attachment to the world before deciding.”

“Why? The answer should be easy, right?” Kaya questioned, dark eyes flicking upward.

“It should be. I know that I want to go, but I ...” Usopp pursed his lips and balanced anxiously on his toes. “I don’t want to leave this behind.”

He let his eyes roam around the room slowly, taking in the immaculate white and gray walls, decorated delicate blue trim, ornate wall lamps, a few picture frames, and a large bookshelf beside Kaya’s desk. The wealth did not appeal to him--it carried just as little happiness for Kaya. But every fixture had become so familiar over the half a decade since they met that he couldn’t help feeling a strange warmth in his bones.

Kaya’s feet stopped moving completely, jarring him out of his thoughts. She smiled painfully and whispered, “Is it me you’re worried about? You don’t have to be considerate. I’m better, I promise.”

“What? No, no!” Usopp cried, clutching her fingers tightly. “I just can’t imagine you, and me, and this room, and this house … I don’t want to give it all up.”

And just like that, with such a simple admission, Usopp was frozen by sudden clarity. He didn’t want to give this up. He didn’t want to spend forever in the mountains, thinking of nothing but priesthood, and remembering friends like Kaya and Conis as a fleeting dream. It felt like pretending he never had those relationships and feelings to begin with.

Holding Kaya’s fragile hands, he imagined a future where he got his wish and became a yamabushi. No matter what angle he viewed it from, he could only see an overwhelming emptiness.

“Maybe that’s why Pagaya-san told you to think on it,” Kaya suggested. She received a defeated nod in response. “Then you owe it to him to do what you really feel.”

“I know, but the temple is my home. It’s my life,” Usopp croaked. “If I quit, there’s no way they’ll let me live there, right?”

“I can’t answer that,” Kaya replied with regret. “But my gut tells me that Pagaya-san won’t leave you high and dry. Neither will I. If worse comes to worst, I’m sure I can find a place for you here somewhere. Maybe here in the study?”

A nervous laugh jumped out of Usopp’s throat before he could stifle it. He shied away from Kaya’s confused stare. Staying with her was probably not a feasible option, no matter how fun it would be. If Kaya’s parents ever found him, her life would become exponentially more difficult. And if the townspeople found out that Kaya spent her free time mingling secretly with a man--a tengu, no less--her reputation would be the least of what would suffer. But even if it was impossible, he knew she’d at least try to give him shelter. The sentiment was as touching as it was scary.

“You haven’t made your decision for certain, right?” Kaya continued brightly. “Consider it for a few more days. You can relax here in the meantime. You were planning to stay the night, right? Or at least, I hope you didn’t intend to climb the mountain in the dark.”

“If it’s okay with you,” Usopp said politely, but if he had any doubt he wouldn’t have come.

She nodded with a cheerful smile. “Merry plans to make some peach pie tonight. I’ll bring you some after dinner. Speaking of dinner, we should get you up to my room before my parents summon me. My ankles are starting to hurt anyway.”

After returning Usopp’s geta, Kaya led him by the hand out through the hallway and up the lofty steps to the second floor. With great exaggeration he made a show of tiptoeing behind her up to her room. Her crystal laugh carried from one end of the gray-white hall to the other.

Once they made it, she helped him get settled in, providing him with books, paper and pencil, and blankets.

“You can go out on the veranda, but just be careful,” Kaya warned. “It’s pretty late, and I don’t think anyone will recognize you, but if someone sees a stranger near my window they might get suspicious.”

“Alright,” Usopp said, sitting cross-legged on her bed and pulling a blanket around his shoulders. As Kaya bade him goodbye and turned to leave, he reached his hand out and called, “Ah, wait. Can I … ask you something?”

Kaya responded without hesitation, “Of course.”

“Say that I _did_ choose to leave the temple, and they kick me out,” he began slowly, “Maybe I couldn’t live with you, but do you think … I could make it living in the town?”

Kaya mulled over the idea in heavy silence.

“Do you mean, ‘could I pass for a human?’” she clarified. Usopp didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to. “I think you could. Though you’d have to give up being a tengu almost entirely. Luckily you don’t have wings, so that’s not a problem, but what about your nose and your staff and your mother’s fan? I know how proud you are of your heritage.”

“I could enjoy those things in private,” Usopp conceded, rubbing an arm. “People don’t have to know I’m not human.”

“Well, that’s true. I’ve known of a few non-humans to live in disguise here for all their lives. And nowadays even the kappa are somewhat accepted, though kept at arm’s length,” Kaya contemplated. “But they’re not tengu.”

“I know, I know,” Usopp groaned, leaning back against the wall. “We’ve got a long history.”

“Normally I wouldn’t be so worried, but …” Kaya bit her lip with a painful expression. She pinned her gaze to the wall, refusing to look at him. “Well, after all, the chief issued that decree a few days ago …”

She looked back to find Usopp’s expectant stare. He asked slowly, “What decree?”

Her eyes widened in alarm. “You … you didn’t hear? Well, I guess you do live in the mountains, but I thought you visited here more often than that …”

She began nervously finger-combing her hair as she spoke.

“He declared that any tengu criminals caught by a bounty hunter could be turned in for double the price. The city is searching for insurgents from a group living in the forest.” Kaya’s face screwed up with melancholy disgust. “He’s even authorized a number of non-human bounty hunters from neighboring cities and the countryside. Over sixty of them, if I recall correctly. The city council has arranged for basic housing for most of them.”

Usopp balked. For Syrup Village, with a population of approximately three hundred natives, sixty was a big number. Add the number of active bounty hunters already living there and the total could be over a hundred hunters. There were about a hundred and fifty tengu in the Upper Yard temple, and many more living in the forest below. But if the hunters were skilled, being outnumbered by a couple hundred tengu might not be an issue.

“That’s not the worst part,” Kaya continued. “The city is offering an extra reward for any tengu ‘artifacts’ submitted independently of tengu bounties.”

“Like fans and staffs?” Usopp squeaked, feeling for his mother’s fan.

“Yes. But the most valuable prizes are tengu masks and wings. The council hasn’t made any distinctions on how they’re acquired, but I’m sure you can imagine.”

Usopp’s blood ran cold. He clutched his mother’s fan tightly, willing away the image of bounty hunters, a cloud of them, a swarm of them, surging hungrily towards him and the forest.

“Wh- … why would they do that?” he gaped. “Doesn’t the council realize the consequences?”

“I think they do,” Kaya affirmed with an angry voice. “I think a witch-hunt is on, but they don’t have the guts to admit it.”

“Maybe …” Usopp began shakily, “Maybe I’d be fine. I don’t have wings, or a mask …”

“But you still have the staff and fan,” his friend pointed out.

“Would they really kill me over that?” he panicked, pulling the blankets tighter around himself. “They … they could just take it from me!”

“Maybe. But I doubt you’d let them do that.” Kaya tucked a long strand of soft white hair behind her ear and stared at the floor. “Nobody knows what the new bounty hunters are capable of, what they’re prepared to do, or if the town will be able to regulate it. Honestly, how are they to know which tengu broke what law? All tengu will look the same.”

She looked back up to see him shivering. Frowning, she sheepishly clarified, “I’m not trying to convince you to stay at the temple. But I do think you should know the risks. I would’ve told you sooner, but I thought you came knowing the risks.”

Usopp commented with a shuddering voice, “The temple is completely closed off from the world. What little I know is from what you’ve told me.”

“Then I’ll take responsibility. If you leave the temple, I’ll take you in and find you a place to live,” she answered with determination. A pinch of relief snuck onto Usopp’s face, bolstering her confidence. “You’re my friend, and I won’t allow anyone to hurt you.”

“I’ll … I’ll think about it,” Usopp promised.

With an energetic nod that was only slightly comforting, Kaya said, “I’ll be back soon with some food. I don’t think anyone will come in while I’m gone, but if they do, you can hide in the closet.” Then she left him alone.

He passed the following hour reading a romance novel she left him: the third volume of a series he’d never seen. He hadn’t read anything other than scripture in a long time--not since his mother died. When he was little, she taught him just enough of human writings that he could navigate street signs and read children’s books. Of course, the romance novel in his hands was far beyond him, but he understood enough to realize it was boring. Soon after, he closed the book and began drawing.

Eventually Kaya returned with a large piece of Merry’s pie and beckoned him to eat on the veranda, leaving the doors open to cool the room. The peach filling made Usopp nostalgic for home. The temple seemed so far away from their joyful chatter, and yet he couldn’t imagine a life where he would forsake the Upper Yard and priesthood.

As they ate, they talked about childhood memories, things they wanted to see in their lifetime, and anything else left uncovered in the years they’d known each other. Kaya’s mounting frustration and despair at her illness and apprenticeship came tumbling out. And for what it was worth, Usopp managed to share just a piece of the suffering he felt as he watched his mother pass on from this world. It was only a piece, barely a few sentences, but more than he’d managed to say to anyone in years. He felt he had to make some effort. This could either be the last time they talked, or the first of many more to come.

At some point Merry came by to bid Kaya goodnight. Usopp hid on the veranda, pie fork still hanging out of his mouth, until the servant left.

“I’m rather tired,” Kaya informed him. “Are you ready to sleep?”

Usopp could have continued talking and reading and drawing all night, but he nodded obediently. With Kaya still gradually convalescing, and Usopp facing a long journey home the next day, they needed rest.  
They closed up the veranda, turned off all the lights, and climbed into the narrow bed--Usopp facing the wall, his back to hers like two brothers sharing a cot at an inn. Kaya bid him goodnight and began humming a lullaby to herself. Thinking nothing of anything, Usopp immediately drifted off to the sound of her voice. He dreamed of his mother, floating in an unfathomable darkness, with gold-tinged skin and a smile. Her strong black wings hid in the shadows, waiting for him to seek them out. Waiting to lift him up.


	2. Chapter 2

He awoke with a start and turned over to find Kaya feverishly shaking him, morning sunbeams tracing her anxious profile. Unconsciously pushing the flat of his palm to her shoulder, he made a thick, confused mutter.

She responded with more shaking and an urgent hiss, “Wake up! We overslept!”

“What?” Usopp asked groggily, allowing her to pull him into a sitting position.

“Merry will be here soon to call me for breakfast!” Kaya pleaded, yanking him to his feet with all her might. “The minute I leave, he’ll start cleaning my room. We have to get you out of here _now_.”

Usopp rushed to collect his things, throwing on his cloak and geta. His friend handed over his walking stick and securely fastened his mother’s fan to his waist. They were about to dash into the hallway when a sharp rap came at the door.

“Milady?” her butler, Merry, called. “Are you awake?”

Kaya went paler than white in a way Usopp never thought possible. They shared a quick glance, neither knowing what to do. If Usopp had wings, he could just fly off the veranda, but …

“Y-yes!” she stuttered, looking around until she laid eyes on the closet. “Um, just a second!”

She pushed Usopp towards the closet door. He did his best to tiptoe, but the geta still made a noticeable clack against the floor. They heard Merry shift as he inquired, “What is that noise?”

Closing Usopp safely in the closet, Kaya answered, “J-just, uh, knocked some stuff together! Don’t worry about it!”

Finally she opened the door for Merry, giving him her best lantern-bright smile. “Sorry, I overslept. What do you need?”

The servant gave her a strange look. “Of course, it’s time for breakfast, milady.”

“Ah, yes, thank you,” she said brightly, smile pulling her cheeks so hard it hurt. “I’ll be down soon, just let me tidy up some things.”

“Don’t worry, I will tidy up for you,” Merry promised fondly. “Besides, I must step in and see about your dresses. Surely they will need some starching ...”

“Starching? For what?” Kaya asked, confused.

Merry gave her a disappointed frown. “Please don’t tell me you’ve forgotten your meeting with the mill owner and his son.”

“O-of course not, I just already had one prepared,” Kaya stammered. Despite her smooth lie, Merry breezed past her before she could put herself between him and the door. “Ah, wait! I said don’t worry about it!”

He stopped in front of the closet door, shooting her a tender smile, completely unaware of her distress.

“You know it’s no trouble. I’m delighted to help you--” he said, and then he was pulling open the closet door. Kaya rushed over and grabbed his hand to stop him. Through the slight crack in the open door she saw one fearful eye in the back of the closet. Usopp shook and covered his mouth with one hand.

When she saw him like that, Kaya’s whole demeanor changed. Her spine straightened, her shoulders raised like a swan preparing its wings for flight, and her face flowered in stern, royal grace. Before she even said anything, Merry’s expression became acquiescent.

“Please come back in a few minutes,” she pleaded quietly, but Merry knew it was an order. That didn’t stop him from standing his ground.

Neck stiff and chin raised, hand still gripping the doorknob, he asked slowly, “There isn’t, perchance, something in here you don’t want me to see?”

Neither did Kaya budge as she answered, “Nothing that should make you question me.”

Merry continued to stare her down for a few moments longer. She squeezed his hand and the royal facade briefly broke into something that begged his faith. He didn’t look entirely convinced, but his face softened nonetheless. Only a bit, but it was enough that he released his grip on the door.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he declared firmly. “By then, you better be dressed.”

“Of course,” Kaya sighed in grateful relief.

Merry allowed himself to be all but shoved out of the room, saying, “I mean it, get dressed,” before she closed the door in his face. She stood frozen against the door, hearing him huff before his footsteps took off down the corridor.

When she was certain he had left, she opened the closet and ushered Usopp out. His knees visibly shook.

“It’s too risky to take you downstairs,” Kaya decided. “You’ll have to leave by the veranda. We’re only on the second floor, so you should be fine. Right?”

They ran to the veranda and peered out over the banister. The distance from there to the ground appeared abysmal. After a quick search, they found the walls had no suitable purchase to climb down, either.

“Th-there’s n-no way I can do this,” Usopp chattered, leaning on his staff for support. But they had to do something.

Putting a hand to her chin, Kaya thought for a while.

“Okay, let’s do it this way,” she began. “You climb onto the banister, I’ll grab your hands, and then lower you down a little and let you go. It’s not much, but it could make the difference.”

There was nothing else to try. Usopp set aside his staff and slowly dragged himself up and over the banister with shaking arms, placing his trust in the firm grasp of her delicate fingers around his wrists. With a grunt and a “here we go” she gradually bent further over the railing, lowering him a few more blessed inches towards the ground. He watched her face as she grunted in exertion, her hair brushing his cheeks.

He heard a shout from the entrance to the balcony. Kaya looked over her shoulder in panic and gasped weakly, “Merry!” Usopp blanched--the butler must have snuck into her room again once she turned away. Why did he come back?!

Kaya turned back to Usopp in a panic, at a loss for what to do. Even with a few extra inches, the ground was still so far away. He shook his head frantically, but knew by the fearful glint in her eye that he had no choice. She made another few strangled noises, struggling with the weight, and then released him with no further warning.

Usopp felt himself free-falling, tumbling head over heels. His wings, which should have been there--his mother had billowing, ebony wings, dammit--failed him through nonexistence and he plummeted straight onto his back. Pain and his spine became one and the same. As he squinted tearfully up at Kaya’s shocked face, and Merry who crowded her, shouting, he couldn’t help feeling like some small trust had been broken. A door had been closed.

He heard a loud smack beside him and turned to see his staff had been tossed down. He vaguely heard Kaya calling his name, screaming for him to get up and run. In spite of his swimming head his hands reached over, clawing for the ground, and he managed to drag himself onto his knees. Clumps of grass fell from his fists as he clutched at his staff and used it to stand.

Kaya’s voice continued to shriek at his back, something about Merry coming for him, but he was too busy regaining his breath to properly focus. He needed to move. That should be easy, right? Even lower-ranking koppa tengu would have no trouble standing up after a fall like that. Then again, a koppa wouldn’t fall. Any tengu with wings wouldn’t fall.

Another yell came from around the side of the house, this time from Merry. Usopp turned his head just far enough to see the butler approaching with long-legged strides. He didn’t need any more prompting--he ran out of the yard and onto the main road that snaked through and eventually out of the village. As he reached the road he stumbled into a bewildered pedestrian, bowing his head in brief apology without slowing down. He ran and ran until the noontime crowd surged onto the street, allowing him to meld seamlessly with the indistinguishable swath of faces. Only after he had did he allow himself to slow his gait from a run to a quick, determined walk. He pressed on through the outskirts and towards the forest without stopping, without allowing himself to think.

Buildings gradually gave way to trees and the crowd dissipated until Usopp was the only one left walking the dusty path now flecked with leaves. He looked behind himself at the bustling little village, radiating quaint happiness and light. The rock that had been waiting to drop in his stomach fell all the way through to his gut. His truest friend was back there--one who promised to protect him despite all risks--and now that friendship might be as good as gone. And with it went Usopp’s easiest out. He shoved down the thought, knowing the only thing he could do at the moment was return to the temple. In a week, when the pilgrimage came, the final decision would be in front of him. He had a whole week to indulge in regret.

It took him a couple of hours to make the climb through the lower mountain strata, mind churning over and over all the while and his back still sore from falling off Kaya’s balcony. A repetitive string of thoughts pushed him onwards, commanding, “Keep going. Just keep going. Don’t think about anything. Not what’ll happen to her, or her distraught face, or her screams. Just keep going.” And keep going he did until he was a mere ten minutes away from the temple steps.

Only then did he notice the faint crunching of footsteps a few feet behind him. He turned to see three wiry men emerge from the foliage, each equipped with travel packs and disdainful smirks.

One of them stepped forward and asked coolly, “Where are you going?”

Seized with instinctive apprehension, Usopp muttered, “J-just out for a walk. Hiking is a personal hobby of mine.”

“You must really be an enthusiast, you’ve been out here hiking for over an hour,” another of the men pointed out, casually strolling up to flank Usopp on his left side. Usopp could see a knife of some kind in a holster half-hidden behind his back.

So they’d been following him for a while now. His chest tightened as he tried his best to nonchalantly accede, “Yes, I’m v-very passionate about it. I love hiking.”

“I see,” the first man hummed, “but just where do you think you’re going with _this_?”

He reached for Usopp’s waist and Usopp deflected his hand, reflexively protecting Banchina’s fan. Seeing a knowing grin spread over the man’s face, Usopp realized his fatal mistake--he hadn’t taken care to hide the fan. How long had they been following him? Had the fan been in plain sight the whole time he fled Kaya’s yard?

“Looks like we’ve got competition,” said the one with the poorly-concealed knife. “I haven’t seen a single tengu since I got here, but this guy already nabbed a fan.”

The third hunter, much shorter than the others, stepped up and smacked the knife-bearing man on the shoulder. “Use your brain,” he chided, gesturing with a hand to Usopp’s trembling form. “He’s got a fan, but no weapon, and look at those robes.”

Reaching again for Banchina’s fan, the first man--most likely their leader--smiled even wider, all his carnivorous teeth gleaming beneath the afternoon light through the trees.

He asked playfully, “Where are your wings? Did you hide them, too, or just your nose?”

All the blood in Usopp’s body froze. But his mind cranked up and shifted gears, automatically generating a lie. He cried a little too loudly, “Wings? My nose? You think I’m a tengu?! A tengu can’t hide their wings! I mean, that’s impossible, r-right? I’ve never heard of such a thing! And this fan here--”

He stepped back, making enough space between them and himself that he could safely display the fan. With sweat running down his cold neck in rivulets he pointed to it and insisted, “I-I really did take this from a tengu, though! Hunted one down with my own two hands! Or actually, I guess I stole it, probably. And these robes, they’re my disguise, to help me sneak up to the temple!”

I can answer any accusation they throw at me this way, Usopp reasoned. I can make something up, maybe tell them I’m heading back up the mountain right now to hunt more tengu. Though then they might ask to come with me, and if they do, it’ll put the whole Upper Yard in danger.

Not that he had any room for debate. The shorter hunter kicked Usopp’s walking stick out from under his hand, knocking him off-balance, and fisted one hand in his gesa.

“You’ve got two options. You either give us your fan here and take us to where your friends are, and maybe we don’t kill you,” he offered unconvincingly, “or we drag your body up the temple steps and kill you in front of your friends.”

Usopp desperately covered Banchina’s fan with one hand, angling that hip away from the man in front of him.

“You want to go to the temple grounds?” he squeaked. “You’ll never make it! And even if you do, that place is sacred!”

“Only to you,” the hunter hissed, fist tightening. “Make your choice.”

Usopp’s mouth clamped shut. There was nothing he could say. If he took the bounty hunters to the temple, they’d definitely dismember his fellow ascetics. But he couldn’t get rid of Banchina’s fan either. It was more than a keepsake of his mother--it was an artifact of her people and a symbol of their heritage. First and foremost it belonged to him, but its symbolism belonged to all the Upper Yard tengu. An artifact of that magnitude would be pawned in the village for mere alms in comparison to what it was truly worth.

Even if he did hand over the fan, he knew just by looking into the eyes of these hunters that he would still die. They saw him as a base animal. He could either die in front of his fellow tengu, a brave sacrifice for refusing to sell out his comrades, or be slaughtered like a pig in the temple after the hunters picked everyone else clean.

“Make your choice,” the hunter prompted again. The knife-bearing man discreetly withdrew his weapon from its sheath.

Usopp knew what he had to do. He knew, but his mouth wouldn’t open. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t say anything. He was too full of the awareness that this terrible moment, lit warmly by the sun playing through the trees, would be the last memory before true suffering.

He was going to die.

His knees gave out and the world went black. His mother’s face appeared before him, floating in a vision of sacred peace. With a warm smile she placed her hands on his shoulders and gently shook him. Then she shook him again, a little harder this time. The next thing he knew, she’d vanished, and in her place was the rigid face of a stranger with close-cropped light blue hair, equally blue eyes and cheeks like slabs of stone.

“You’re awake,” the stranger breathed, stony expression easing. “Don’t just pass out like that. You scared me.”

Still in a daze, Usopp sat up to frantically scan his surroundings. He was … alive? And still in the forest. Where did the hunters go?

A few feet away the three hunters from before lay sprawled on the grass. The short hunter who had once been so intimidating was now spread-eagle on his back, mouth agape and eyes open. None of the hunters moved or even appeared to be breathing.

Fearfully, Usopp whispered, “Are they d-dead?”

The stranger barked out a laugh.

“Hardly. I hit them with the blunt side--they’re just unconscious.”

Usopp wasn’t sure what he meant by “the blunt side” until he saw the stranger lean down to pick up an axe. At that moment he remembered this guy was a complete unknown. He also happened to note just how massive the man was in comparison to him--he had to be at least one to two heads taller with a warrior’s wide, muscular frame. His head climbed like a mountain peak into the trees.

“You’re from the Upper Yard, right?” the man asked, stern brow creasing. The axe swayed threateningly at his side.

Fear gripped at Usopp’s stomach once more. He shielded himself with both hands, shrieking, “P-please don’t kill me, or take my fan!”

“What?” the stranger balked. He glanced at the axe out of the corner of his eye. Returning the tool to a spot somewhere on his back that Usopp couldn’t see, the man hastily clarified, “I’m a woodcutter, not a bounty hunter.”

Stooping again, he offered a hand to Usopp and said, “I’m Franky. What’s your name?”

Still shaking in fear, Usopp gave Franky a once-over. From his position he could see the outline of a woodcutter’s pack over Franky’s shoulder, where the axe had presumably been returned. He also wore a very … unconventional uniform. His humble field worker’s vest clashed with the high-quality cloth of his navy-striped sleeves and gauntlets. Around his waist hung a bear pelt, and nothing below that but a fundoshi and a pair of leg-guards below the knee.

“That’s not a woodcutter’s uniform,” Usopp protested with some embarrassment as he tried not to make eye-contact with this stranger’s lower body.

Franky merely raised his eyebrows. “Trust me,” he assured, “I’m the real deal. I can chop down a tree right now if you want me to prove it.”

If anything, the ridiculous getup somehow made him more terrifying. He looked like a youkai sculpted from cold stone, so unaware of the limitations of his body that he didn’t need to hide himself.

Usopp cautiously regarded Franky’s hand. If Franky had wanted to kill him, he’d have done so by now, right? And he’d saved Usopp from the bounty hunters.

Reluctantly, Usopp gripped the outstretched hand and acceded, “I’m Usopp.”

Franky gave a casual tug and Usopp practically flew to his feet. His stomach lurched. He suddenly felt bad for the unconscious bounty hunters. Maybe they really were dead, considering Franky’s apparent strength.

“Are you on your way back to the temple?” the woodcutter asked cordially.

Usopp nodded meekly, still ready to bolt at any time.

“Maybe you can help me then,” Franky suggested. He gestured with a thumb at the forest behind him. “I’m out here in the Belt almost every day working. These guys here--” he pointed to the men out cold on the ground “--were creeping around near the temple steps yesterday. At the time, I didn’t think much of it, but they were still lurking when I came back this morning. Now I know they are hunters. Do you know anything about the situation?”

Usopp frowned and averted his gaze.

“No. I m-mean, that’s definitely weird but it should be fine.” He paused, wondering how much information he should give. Eventually he conceded, “Some tengu usually stand watch over the temple steps to ward off intruders. If anything happens, they’ll take care of it.”

“You’re talking about the white-winged tengu, right?” Franky asked, brow furrowing in concern. Usopp nodded. “That’s the thing. I just came back from that area ten minutes ago. There were no tengu standing guard at the steps.”

Usopp’s eyes widened. “What? Are you sure you didn’t miss them?”

“Yes. I know because there’s this one koppa tengu, a girl with twin braids and a beak, who’s on duty every afternoon.”

“Conis wasn’t there?” Usopp shouted, his nervous heart getting the better of him. “There’s no way she’d leave the temple steps unguarded.”

“I’m telling you, there’s no one there,” Franky repeated. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

Without another word, the woodcutter turned his back and stalked off in the direction of the temple steps. Usopp called out for him to wait, but Franky simply kept walking. Taking a human to the temple steps seemed like a bad idea. Even if Franky did save Usopp, he could have plenty of ulterior motives for showing friendly behavior. But fear at the prospect of venturing to the temple steps alone, where more bounty hunters might be hiding, outweighed Usopp’s distrust.

Usopp hurried to catch up with Franky, insisting breathlessly, “Only to the temple steps--then you have to leave, okay?”

“Sure,” Franky grunted in affirmation.

They quickly arrived at the steps and found, much to Usopp’s dismay, that Franky was right--Conis had vanished and no other White Berets appeared to be around.

“I have a real bad feeling about this,” Franky mumbled to himself as he scanned the surrounding area. “You said this never happens?”

“Not in my lifetime,” Usopp confirmed.

“Could the guards have left to chase someone off?” Franky suggested, carefully avoiding the explicit mention of bounty hunters.

“The enemy would have to be pretty strong to pull both guards from their post. And even if they did leave, more tengu would replace them,” Usopp explained, cupping his chin and doing his best forensic examination of the spot where Conis once stood, kneeling down to scoop the earth with two fingers. Unfortunately, normal koppa didn’t leave behind trails of vegetation like he did, so he had no idea how to determine where she went. “I don’t understand. Where could they all have gone?”

As if in answer to his plea, a faint scream trickled down from the sky. Both men gave a start and glanced at each other to confirm they’d heard it. They strained their ears and waited with bated breath. The heavens did not disappoint--another shout fell down, and then another. And then multiple in tandem and one right after the other until they rained on the trees like comets.

Usopp had scarcely the time to panic before Franky boomed, “I knew it! Someone’s attacking the temple!” The woodcutter grit and bared his teeth, his mortar-smooth skin stretching and folding into the visage of a fierce oni. He lunged up the steps without hesitation, climbing two at a time.

“Franky, stop! You can’t go up there!” Usopp cried, but could not move to stop him. He could barely feel his legs. The woodcutter didn’t seem to hear him, and continued charging up the steps, already twenty feet away and getting further.

Usopp stumbled up the first couple of steps, calling out again. He tripped over the third step, landing on his right knee with a yelp. He reflexively doubled over to clutch the injury. As he cursed his clumsiness, a shadow fell over him. When he looked up, to his surprise, he found that Franky had come back.

Bright blue eyes wide with confusion, Franky asked, “What are you waiting for? Let’s go!”

With a mighty heave he picked Usopp completely off the ground and slung him over his shoulder. Then he turned back towards the temple and continued his ascent, his pace faster than before--faster than any human his size should be allowed to run. Usopp bounced in his grip, chin banging against Franky’s thick shoulder blade until his teeth rattled. They reached the top of the temple steps quicker than most ascetics could fly there. Before they could get high enough to see the temple grounds over the top step, Usopp struggled out of Franky’s grip and tugged on his shirt to get him to stop.

“You have to stay here. The temple grounds are sacred--no human is allowed to see or enter.”

“But the tengu are in danger!” Franky retorted. His protest was punctuated by the sounds of a struggle a few yards away.

“That’s why I’m going to help them. You can’t come,” Usopp insisted, giving the other man’s shoulder a firm press. “You’d get in trouble. We both would. I can’t let that happen.”

He really hoped the insane fear he felt coursing through his veins didn’t show on his face. By the look of Franky’s growing distress, such hopes seemed far-fetched. But a regretful sense of understanding finally grew between the two of them, just like the clover stems struggling up through the soil beneath Usopp’s feet.

“I get it,” Franky admitted begrudgingly. “I’d rather die than defile your temple. I’d rather die than leave you all to face those hunters alone, but--”

He seemed to visibly steel himself, strained brow polishing over until it was smooth and white. And then his eyes blew wide open as a thought suddenly occurred to him. He reached behind himself, rustling with something under the bear pelt around his waist, and pulled out a weird instrument made of wood and metal with a hook-shaped handle. Though Usopp had never seen one in person before, he immediately recognized what it was from one of Kaya’s many books.

“Many bounty hunters carry guns or ranged weapons. Especially now that tengu are on the menu.” Franky hesitated, mouth set in a tight line. “I don’t know what temple policy is on this, but … It’s just a standard flintlock. Only one shot in it.”

Usopp looked up helplessly at the woodcutter, fear plain on his face now. Franky seemed to know that what he was doing was wrong, and completely out of the line. Usopp wanted to flat-out refuse, because _of course guns weren’t allowed in the temple_ but now that the offer had been made, he was possessed with the fear that maybe Franky was right. Maybe he needed a trump card. He thought back to the bounty hunter from earlier, and the yawning black unknown of what he might’ve done to Usopp if Franky wasn’t there. What he was capable of doing. What tricks he had up his sleeve.

Franky held the pistol out by the muzzle, clenched within his chiseled fist. A fist that could have crushed Usopp with a simple squeeze, or perhaps could even crush the gray barrel if he tried hard enough.

“It doesn’t hurt to have a backup, right?” Franky suggested weakly. “Maybe it’s a bad idea, but I …”

The only time Usopp had ever seen such concern on someone’s face was from earlier that day, when Kaya struggled in vain not to drop him from her verandah. The look she gave him in the millisecond he slipped from her grasp bore a strong resemblance to the expression Franky wore as he proffered his dangerous, mysterious weapon. It’s a trick of the eye, Usopp told himself. He wants you to let your guard down. Don’t believe him.

So he refused to believe in Franky’s concern. Even so, fear made his final decision for him. Without another word, he reached out and met Franky halfway.  


 

At the heart of the temple grounds, staff and heart in hand, Usopp witnessed the heavens shatter. Wings beat the air, crude wooden spears clashed with well-honed swords, clawed feet and fleshy toes kicked up tempests of dust, feathers, and blood. Wounded tengu rested at a safe distance on the ground while others sequestered and subdued individual hunters. Amidst the sweat and heat and shouting, the entire area swelled with vibrant life. Usopp had yearned for this fire, for this inertia, but not like this. This life came at the price of peace.

The ascetics fought with surprising organization and efficiency. By the time Usopp made it to the center of the conflict, a gauntlet of White Berets had flanked the last of the bounty hunters and began backing them against one of the connecting walls of the compound. Among them was Conis, who hovered at the back of the formation, darting in to block any gaps that appeared when a tengu lunged or traded places with another. He wouldn’t have to fight after all, he thought with crushing relief.

As if in direct response to his misplaced naivety, two hunters took advantage of one of those gaps and broke through the formation. One charged Conis directly, occupying her spear, and the other followed up with a quick dagger slash that cut deep into the flesh of her shoulder. She gave a mighty heave and pushed them both back with her spear just enough that she could attempt a retreat. She barely managed to scuttle backwards four steps when one of them drew a pistol that looked hauntingly similar to the one burning a hole in Usopp’s waistband. Without any regard to the tengu rushing to intercept him, he took direct aim for Conis’ head.

Usopp’s feet reacted without his permission, propelling him in a full-body dive towards the hunters. With a quick and firm swing of his staff, he struck the dagger-bearing hunter in the head, sending him sprawling. He wasted no time in lunging for the other hunter’s gun. He tried to wrestle it away for a few preciously brave moments before it was yanked back. In the next breath, the butt of the pistol cracked against his forehead and brought him to his knees. Conis let out a shout, half misery and half rage.

Usopp raised his eyes to see the barrel of the hunter’s pistol pointed between his eyes. The shakedown in the woods suddenly felt like a petty squabble in comparison. He felt all courage leave his body, trickling down his cheek along with a red trail of blood, and sat paralyzed. He was helpless to do anything but watch the hunter’s finger curl around the trigger while his bravery, his love for this temple, his will, and his loyalty bled out along his face. The weight of them dragged his trembling face down and his gasping lips closed, calcifying against his skin.

The hunter’s eyes widened in shock, and then in poorly-disguised terror. He shook his pistol and shouted, “Put the gun down, I’m warning you.”

Usopp looked over and saw the flintlock raised in his hand, aimed with calm and unwavering precision. Just like that, without even looking, he shot the hunter in the chest and turned back in time to watch him fall to the ground.

The last thing Usopp remembered was the hunter clutching at the wound, gaping like a fish on dry land. To the music of clanking spears, Usopp gripped his heavy cheeks and brow with his fingers, digging beneath the skin, and pulled as hard as he could, until the weight began to peel away. What came off in his hands was a mask, the inside molded perfectly to his face. He flipped it over to see the face of a blue and gold tengu, fangs peeking out from behind thin red lips. He knew he should be horrified.

Yet he felt it was the most beautiful thing he had ever held.  


 

The ascetics confined the bounty hunters to a room in the temple and posted guards. They imprisoned Usopp in his room, much the same way, with Pagaya to watch over him. He and an elder stood at the door, embroiled in a quiet but intense discussion. Usopp sat on the bed, still clutching the mask in his hands, listening silently to the sound of feathers rustling.

The mask had not lost its luster in the time since the fever of conflict faded and peace returned brokenly to the temple. The right side of the forehead was dyed blue, cutting the otherwise gold surface at a sharp diagonal, through the right eye and down the sculpted cheek. Two pointed ear-like protrusions flanked the sides, drawing the body of the cheeks into a more threatening curve. Its intense, eyeless gaze bore into Usopp, searching for his resolution, uncovering a burning desire.

Finally the elder left. Pagaya watched the door for a few moments, completely still.

Usopp hazarded to raise his voice, “What did he say? How long am I locked in here for?”

“Indefinitely,” Pagaya answered, eyes still on the door. Eventually he looked back at Usopp, turning his whole body to face him. “You have no idea how much trouble you are in. Where did you get that gun?”

A chill ran through Usopp’s entire body. “A human. A woodcutter. He saved me from some hunters while I was on my way back, and then we heard the commotion going on at the temple. He gave it to me to protect myself.”

“Of course, a human,” Pagaya sighed bitterly. “You swore to a life of peace, and yet you carried a gun onto our sacred temple grounds--”

“I wanted to protect everyone!” Usopp rushed to defend himself. “The other priests fought too!”

“Yes, but you fought with a _gun_ ,” Pagaya hissed, wings billowing out in frustration. “Do you think that staff of yours is just for walking?”

When Usopp shrinked back in fear and shame, Pagaya composed himself and folded down his wings.

“Maybe if it had just been the gun, the elders would have forgiven you. But that mask of yours …” Pagaya shook his head at Usopp’s wide-eyed look. “They’re afraid of it. There is no peace in that mask, only the smell of blood. To see you with that mask, waving that gun around--the elder gurus fear it’s a sign of impending war.”

Hunching in close to himself, clutching the mask tightly, Usopp asked, “What about the guy I shot? Is he okay?”

His sensei hesitated, pain growing on his bearded face. “The elders say you’ve killed him.”

The news hits like an icepick to the skull. All feeling went out of Usopp’s fingertips, yet his heart felt strangely calm and cold. Somewhere deep down, he’d known the result of his actions the moment he saw the gun in his hand. His heart and lungs shivered in his chest.

“I haven’t seen the body. But the rumors have already spread throughout the temple,” Pagaya continued, a pinch of gravel in his smooth voice. “If there really is a corpse, it must be shipped back to the city. No matter how respectfully we return the body, you will face resentment.”

“They were bounty hunters. They came to our temple, to our sacred mountain, and tried to kill us,” Usopp begged in a tremulous voice. “He tried to kill me, and Conis too!”

“This is all true. But we are tengu.”

The age-old truth of separation left Usopp with no recourse left to argue. Kneeling down in front of him, one wrinkled hand resting on his shoulder, Pagaya soothed, “Please understand, I say this not to persecute you.” He grabbed hold of Usopp’s wrists and shook them firmly. “I fear for your life. Even if this incident is overlooked somehow you will not be allowed to participate in the pilgrimage.”

That final admission made tears well up in Usopp’s eyes. He willed them down, not wanting to cry in front of his teacher.

“A tengu’s life is long,” Pagaya continued, “take this as an opportunity to leave for a few decades and get your spirit in order.”

Those words brought a fresh wave of panic to Usopp’s face. “Decades? That long? W-what if we’re worrying about nothing?”

“If it’s really nothing, I’ll send for you. But you can’t afford to take any chances.” He squeezed Usopp’s wrists meaningfully. “Just live. I beg you.”

There was nothing left to say. Pagaya left the room to give the elders a status report and assure them everything was fine while Usopp collected his meager life in the thin blanket on his bed. Pretty much all he owned were the clothes on his back, his mother’s fan, a yellowing photo of his mother and father from just before he was born--a priceless luxury the elders were loathe to let him keep--his lumpy pillow and the staff in his hands. And now, to add to these possessions, his mask. He tied the blanket together onto his staff, the weight dreadfully light and heavy at the same time.

Soon Pagaya returned, a cloth bundle tucked under his arm. He carefully drew back the fabric to reveal a regal gesa with golden straps and six dove-white poffs. A cold bead of sweat fled down Usopp’s back.

His grandfather’s gesa. An article common to all full-fledged yamabushi, made holy only by the man who wore it as he conquered and protected the Upper Yard. Even though it belonged to Usopp’s blood, he had only seen it a handful of times, held prisoner and coveted at the elder gurus’ special altar. Usopp stared blindly up at Pagaya. The beady eyes that normally skipped and rolled like blackberries on the ground fixated on him with the piercing gaze of a crow that has laid claim to a shiny object.

“I can’t take this,” Usopp squeaked out.

“Why not?” Pagaya asked, like the answer wasn’t obvious.

“It’s the temple’s treasure. It’s the yamabushi’s pride--”

“I will replace it and they won’t know the difference,” Pagaya said calmly, and added as Usopp opened his mouth to interject, “It belongs to you, not us. We have worshipped it to death, just like its owner--it’s your turn now. Do with it as you see fit.”

There was no way the elders wouldn’t notice the absence of a prized artifact. No way. Apparently Pagaya didn’t care--he had already wrapped up the gesa again and pushed it into Usopp’s unwilling hands. In the moment that Usopp was still thunderstruck, Pagaya was already pushing him towards the door, hissing, “Go now. Don’t waste any time.”

Usopp dug his geta into the floor, pushing back desperately. “I have to stay.”

“You’ll have another shot at becoming a yamabushi,” Pagaya assured him with exasperation. “If you can’t wait, there are other temples--”

“And if you let me go,” Usopp asked, “What happens to you?”

“They’ll never know,” Pagaya repeated mechanically, mouth set in a thin line.

“But--”

“If I must, I’ll face that when the time comes.” Then he added, as a consolation, “I’ll ask the White Berets to keep you informed as the situation progresses. Now go.”

He opened the door to the room, took a few cautious looks outside, and then pulled Usopp over the threshold. He blocked the entire doorway with his body. For the first time, Usopp saw tears in his sensei’s eyes.

“Take off your geta so no one will hear you,” Pagaya advised him. “And Usopp--I don’t have the right to ask this of you, but please, if … if somehow you see Conis on the way out, tell her--”

His jaw clamped shut. He wanted to say the words, but he wasn’t allowed. He wasn’t even allowed to think them.

“I will,” Usopp promised. He fell to both knees and bowed, forehead touching the ground, tears pouring over and mixing with the dirt. “Thank you. For everything you’ve ever done for me. I’ll never forget it.”

He pulled himself off the ground and asserted, “We’ll meet again. I know we will. So please wait for me.”

They nodded to each other, and then Usopp removed his geta and took off barefooted towards the temple steps. When he cast a glance behind him, Pagaya had already closed the door. The temple grounds were blissfully quiet except for the soft patting of his feet. He expected more guards to be around, waiting for a second ambush, but it was if the heavens had sucked everyone up to let Usopp skate cleanly by.

He reached the steps and kept running, feet smacking against stone and breathing already wild from stress. It would be a long climb down. If there were any White Berets in the forest, he’d have to avoid them too. He hoped Conis would be guarding the steps alone, and then realized she probably wouldn’t even be on duty, because of her injury. Sure enough, when he stopped at the bottom of the steps, he saw no one there.

He had to go back. Conis was injured. Pagaya had asked him to talk to her, he had to tell Conis his dad was thinking of her. She was _hurt_ and Usopp was running away without a second thought. He turned and looked back up the steps, feeling their magnitude all the more.

Something rustled behind him. He clutched his staff and whipped around, only to find the woodcutter from earlier leaning out from behind a tree.

He was still there. Why was he still there?

“You’re okay,” Franky breathed in relief, approaching with arms outstretched. His eyes caught the way Usopp’s legs wavered and hazarded a step back. The friendly expression immediately melted into worry.

“What the hell were you doing?” Usopp asked through chattering teeth.

“I was afraid if someone saw me they’d chase me away. I had to know what was going on.” He put both hands on Usopp’s shoulders and Usopp got that feeling again, that awareness that this human could probably snap all his bones if he wanted. “Is everyone okay? Are _you_ okay? You were gone for so long--”

Usopp wriggled fervently out of the grip, hugging his arms. “Don’t touch me.”

Blue eyes widened in alarm. There, Usopp thought, there’s that fear. The fear in that bounty hunter’s eyes, the fear in Pagaya’s, the thing that makes all tengu what they are. He felt sick to his stomach. His shaking legs finally buckled and he fell to the ground, struggling not to retch. Franky followed suit, reaching out again, until Usopp shouted once more, “Don’t _touch_ me! Please.”

“What happened?” the woodcutter demanded. “What’d those guys do?”

His eyes went even wider and he pointed to Usopp’s forehead, to the wound received from the bounty hunter’s pistol.

He looked up the steps, the kindness from before stealing over on his face, and he stood up as if ready to make the climb all over again. He made to step around Usopp until a hand reached up and gripped his bare leg.

“Don’t,” Usopp pleaded. “Don’t do anything. There’s nothing--there was--”

He grimaced and pulled himself up again, legs struggling to hold. He was so pathetic. He could hardly stand on his own. How did he think he could go back and make a heroic appearance, impart Pagaya’s message to Conis, then wish her well and escape?

He forced himself to look Franky in the eye. The steely determination had already vanished, replaced again with that nagging worry.

Usopp had trusted him. He’d taken this human’s gun. And it had cost him his entire life. It took away his decision, and left him with only one path. For all he knew, Franky had known this would happen. Had done it on purpose. He had to have known.

“I thought,” he choked out, “I actually thought, maybe, maybe you were okay. But I was wrong.”

And with that, darkness overcame his vision and he fell back into the void of dreams, those black wings always, always unfolding before his eyes as his consciousness flew away.


End file.
